


Autumn of Discontent

by LilyMaid



Series: Endless Always [2]
Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Prompts in Panem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 14:44:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3654264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyMaid/pseuds/LilyMaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The summer is over and Katniss must decide if clinging to the things she's always wanted are worth giving up the boy she never knew she needed</p>
            </blockquote>





	Autumn of Discontent

After spending almost the whole summer alone in the woods, except Sundays with Gale, Katniss has never been more reluctant to return to school, only to be trapped inside smothered by so many other people.

Prim practically vibrates with excitement as she skips towards school, her worn blouse carefully ironed and tucked into her skirt. Katniss truges behind with a dutiful smile, though as they draw closer she moves ever slower, anxiety building in her chest.

Bile is burning in the back of Katniss’s throat when they’ve reached the District 12 school yard. Scolding herself to get it together, she turns to Prim.

“See you right here after school, little Duck,” she says, tugging on one of Prims golden braids.

“Don’t call me that here, someone might hear you,” says Prim, peevishly. “I’ll see you later.”

Prim disappears into the crowd of noisy kids. Katniss stares after her, realizing her sweet sister is not quite so little anymore. She’s in a daze as she wanders to her first class. By the window is the the desk she’s sat in the last few years. Dropping her bag against the wall she slides into the metal seat, props her chin on her hand, and stares out longingly. 

Ignoring the other students filling up the room around her, she loses herself in a daydream. She barely hears the teacher greeting them, and just catches her say that they are to stay in the seats they’ve just chosen the entire year, same as they had for years.

Glancing around she finds, to her horror, Peeta Mellark watching her from the next desk over. She should have waited till the class was almost full to choose a seat. She'd been avoiding him all summer and now that would be infinitely more difficult.

She resolutely faces forward, angling her body slightly away from him, burning cheeks betraying her calm exterior. Apparently simply staying away from him was not a clear enough message. As soon as class is dismissed she bolts for the door and hides in the girls bathroom till the hallway is nearly empty.

On the second day Peeta slips a note under her elbow, which she crumples and drops into her bag. She hides in the bathroom again, and leaning against the cool tiles she smooths out the paper. The boyish writing reads “Please look at me.”

The breath catches in Katniss’s chest, then sputters out with a lamenting moan, so soft it’s nearly a sigh. The paper flutters to the floor as she presses the heel of her palms into her eyes, willing them to cease their traitorous leaking. 

The deep ache, a painful emptiness, feels more raw than it had that first night, when she realized that she’d made a terrible mistake kissing him under the stars in the Meadow. He elicits emotions from her that feel dangerously close to something she swore, after her father died, she would never feel. She wonders why she feels his loss so deeply, when she’s spent so little time with him. How does she feel like he’s left her empty when there was barely time for him to take root? 

Continuing to see him would only lead to more pain. She has only so much to offer, and he would grow to hate her. Better to save them both from what could only be temporary. She wonders if it’s too late to save herself. But she has to be strong for both of them. He probably wouldn’t understand that she doesn’t want to marry and risk having kids, kids that could face starvation and the reaping bowl.

No, she was right to not see him again. Though perhaps she ought to tell him something, to explain her distance. She spent the whole summer in the forest with the excuse that she wanted to make sure they were fully prepared for winter, but really she’s been afraid to face Peeta. Not because she’s afraid to do what must be done, but that she wouldn’t do it all. That all the reasons in the world would slip out of her head like pearls off a string. That with him there would be no reason that could seem logical enough.

She told herself that he couldn’t be too put out, and had begun to believe it, till reading his note. Sure, Prim mentioned he’d asked about her, after a trip to town, but that was manners. 

After twenty minutes she finds that she’s still sniveling. She flees the bathroom, thinking of the forest but somehow arrives home. Without removing her boots, she crawls into bed and pulls the quilt over her head. Finally, crying out, she kicks the covers off and splashes water from the sink on her face before falling back onto the bed. 

Prim nudges her awake with the toe of her shoe.

“Are you okay?” says Prim, eyebrows drawn. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Oh! Sorry, I left early,” says Katniss, sleepily. “I wasn’t feeling well, and then I fell asleep. I meant to walk back for you. Did you wait long?”

“No, you’re always there before me, so I only waited till most of the kids left,” says Prim, leaning over to feel Katniss’s forehead. “I was pretty sure you’d gone. What’s wrong?”

“Oh, a headache,” says Katniss. “But I feel fine now.”

Prim squints at her with her lips pursed.

“Your color’s been off all summer,” she says. “And you’ve been losing weight. Have you felt sick to your stomach?”

Katniss shakes her head.

“Only when my head hurts, and that’s not very often,” says Katniss. “And I’ve been pretty active the last few months, I haven’t always taken the time to eat.” Katniss smiles, she’s really quite proud of all the food that’s been prepared and stored away. The coming winter should be quite comfortable in the Everdeen home.

Prim continues to stare, but with a shake of her head goes to the kitchen to start her homework.

The next morning, as Katniss is longing to to transform into a bird and fly far away, Peeta slides another note onto her desk. It’s not folded scrap of lined paper, but white and empty, ripped on one side, like it had been torn from a book. Hesitating, she recalls Peeta’s simple plea and how it had affected her yesterday. Clamping her jaw tightly she turns the page over and is immediately overwhelmed. 

Before her is a beautiful and detailed sketch of a dandelion.

He saw her pick that flower, the day after he gave her the bread. He can’t possibly know what that moment represented, their salvation, provided by the hope he’d given her. She can’t tear her eyes away. He must think she just likes them.

The bell rings, and her classmates pack away their books and chatter loudly as they exit the room. Still, she is frozen by the memory. Someone tentatively touches her shoulder. Blinking, she turns to see Peeta crouching beside her, his mouth close enough to kiss.

“Katniss, please won’t you just talk to me?” he says, quietly. She has to tell him something, because much more of this and she’d relent, despite her reasons. She can’t stand to see people in pain, and often retreats to the forest when someones brought to her mother for treatment.

 

“Yeah, uh, meet me by that tree, by the road, at the beginning of lunch,” says Katniss, sliding out of her seat, clutching her bag in one hand and the picture in another.

As soon as she’s in the restroom she locks herself in the stall. She looks at the picture once more and then carefully places it between the pages of her history book.

No one is by the tree as she approaches, but sees Peeta’s boots, and walks around to the other side. Peeta’s leaning back against the tree reading, his legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankle. He glances up, expression hopeful. Katniss continues slowly down the road, and she can hear his boots scraping against the ground as he climbs to his feet to follow her.

Catching up quickly, he matches her pace, his hands shoved in his pockets. Swiveling around in front of her his hand grasps her shoulder, holding her in place.

“Katniss, just look at me,” he says. “Please.”

She does, and wishes she’d never agreed to talk. Peeta looks about as terrible as she feels.

“Did I do something wrong?” he says. “Do I have something to apologize for? Please, tell me.”

“No!” says Katniss, breaking away. “Nothing! It’s me. I- I- should never have - I’m sorry.” 

“Do you already have something with Gale?” says Peeta, sadly.

“No, I don’t want a boyfriend. I don’t want to date anyone,” she says.

“Well, could we be friends? Could we try that?” he says, hopeful again.

To be friends with Peeta might be wonderful, or the worst kind of torture. To talk or joke with him, close enough to touch or kiss, but not being allowed to. It would be unfair to both of them. Just standing there in the road her hand itched to push the curls back from his forehead. It would be impossible, the longing would overwhelm her senses.

“I can’t be friends with you, I’m sorry. I have to go,” she says, glancing up long enough to see his pale stricken face before rushing home. Hiding under the bedclothes she sobs, feeling like she’s killed something precious, unable to erase Peeta’s haunting expression from her mind.

In the weeks that follow the warm weather holds, but the nights grow ever colder till one morning in early October the whole of the District has been kissed with frost. Katniss moves on from her pain, as she’s done before. Prim continues to badger her to eat more, and she tries, though she has no appetite. Peeta too seems thinner this autumn, from what Katniss can see of him in the lunchroom. In general he seems the same as always, though perhaps smiling less.

Just as the trees turn from green to golds, reds, and oranges Peeta stops coming to school. Katniss doesn’t notice right away, she never looks at him in class and sometimes doesn’t see him at lunch. At first she’s annoyed at herself, she’s not supposed to care. After a week she grows concerned.

Then, while walking home from school, she overhears a group of girls, a few grades below hers, walking in just in front of her talking over each other excitedly.

“You didn’t hear?!”

“No, I know because my cousin is friends with one of his brothers.”

“I swear it’s true.”

“Peeta Mellark is dying!”

Katniss freezes, eyes wide. The girls fade into the distance. A small hand touches her elbow, prompting her forward. The hand slips into hers, though she could not return the squeeze it gives, she continues moving mechanically. Once home she’s forced down to the couch in the living room. There are voices, one higher, the other lower, but all she hears are their cadance. Then a sharp smell placed under her nose wrenches her from the safe place in her mind.

“Katniss, can you hear me?” says Mrs. Everdeen, kneeling in front of Katniss with a small flashlight.

Katniss nods.

“Did you hit your head? I didn’t feel any trauma,” says Prim.

Kaniss shakes her head.

“Katniss what happened?” says Mrs. Everdeen.

Katniss shakes her head again, closing her eyes.

“What’s wrong with her, mom?” says Prim.

“I think she’s just in shock, but from what?” says Mrs. Everdeen.

“Oh… I think… I think she’s heard about Peeta,” says Prim.

Mrs. Everdeen sighs. “I was hoping there’d be something better to say by the time the news hit the school.”

Snapping her head up Katniss looks from her mother to her sister.

“Katniss, I can’t tell you much, he’s my patient,” says Mrs. Everdeen. “It’s not looking very good, but I believe if he can make it through the night... I’m heading back soon. Prim, stay with Katniss, she’s in no shape to be alone.” She turns back to the table laid out with supplies and continues to pack her bag.

Prim hands Katniss a mug of tea, mint by the smell. With every breath the spicy scent relaxes her frozen muscles. By the time she thinks to take a sip it’s cold. Still, she continues to swallow until the mug is empty. 

The mug is replaced by a piece of bread. Bakery bread, white, not the hearty kind full of nuts and dried fruit, like the bread Peeta was beaten for so he could feed her. 

“The baker gave it to mom this morning, it’s still fresh,” says Prim.

“I’m not hungry,” say Katniss holding out the bread to give it back. “I need to go hunting.”

“No, we still have some of the stew from yesterday,” says Prim. “You should try to rest.”

Wordlessly Katniss climbs the stairs and perches at the edge of the mattress. Sleep will not find her, she can’t shut off her thoughts. 

Shifting, she presses her forehead to the frigid glass and forces herself to imagine, in detail, a world without Peeta, a life with no color or warmth. The years stretch before her, always winter, no hope of spring. While she does not allow the word into her consciousness, she knows, in her bones, that she must love him.

The revelation has come too late. He’ll die, leaving her a husk of ash, and never knowing she cares.

There is a deep boom followed by a brilliant flash moments later. A soft pitter patter on the roof quickly transforms into the roar of a tempest. 

At some point during her vigil Prim drapes their mother’s quilt around her shoulders before snuggling against her back. 

Starting, Katniss wakes, her body stiff from sitting all night, her eyes burn from unshed tears. But the storm has passed and dawn is breaking over the Meadow, wispy greys and soft golds and peaches. The vermillion sun crowns the trees, and the world is set aglow. 

“You’re awake,” says Mrs. Everdeen, from the doorway, looking exhausted and worn.

Katniss looks at her mother, unable to speak.

“The worst has passed, Katniss, the fever broke sometime this morning,” says Mrs. Everdeen. “It may take a while, but he should recover.”

Katniss rose from the bed and kissed her mother’s cheek before pulling on her coat and shutting the door behind her. She walks through the Meadow, arms wrapped around herself, shaking with relief. The rumbles of her stomach remind her that she hasn’t eaten since breakfast the day before. 

There is snow on the ground by the time Peeta returns to school, just a week before the Harvest Festival. Katniss waits for him just outside the classroom, one shoulder leaning against the wall. The relief in seeing him whole and alive, before her, is instant. Even breathing is easier. He seems to have regained some of the weight he’d lost, and his color seems better.

He makes his way slowly down the hall, halting when he sees she’s watching him. He resumes, wearily, his eyes glancing from the the floor to her face, and then back to the floor. Pushing off the wall, unable to remain stationary, she moves to him. He waits for her, placing a hand against the wall, as if to steady himself.

All Katniss has thought of, since that terrible night, is seeing Peeta. Now he’s here, close enough to reach out and touch, and she has no idea what to do or say. Peeta watches her, patiently waiting for her to speak, his expression quizzical. 

Finally she reaches out and clasps his hand with a squeeze, rolls up onto her toes, and kisses his cheek.

“I’m glad you’re better,” says Katniss, making eye contact. “I was so worried.” She turns back toward the classroom, releasing Peeta’s hand. His grip tightens and he tugs her back into an embrace.

“You care,” says Peeta, his voice thick.

“Too much,” says Katniss, wrapping her arms around his back.


End file.
